


redamancy

by gigahoney



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24493411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigahoney/pseuds/gigahoney
Summary: It had been about 4 years since the two had seen each other, and now they find they've attended the same college somehow. Ouma has become different in terms of actions over the years, Saihara has noticed. While still playful at heart, he's become more serious about things and is spending more time alone and pushing himself to the educational breaking point. Saihara, on the other hand, has barely changed at all. He's going to try his hardest to figure Ouma out, but that just brings up one crucial question—What exactly happened during those 4 years he wasn't there?
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Saihara Shuichi, Amami Rantaro & Saihara Shuichi, Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Iruma Miu/K1-B0, K1-B0 & Oma Kokichi, Momota Kaito & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first work! Well, on here anyway. Chapters will be generally around the same length, and I'll try to post every week or week and a half depending on my schedule. Thank you for taking the time to read what I'm writing! <3
> 
> Also, happy pride month everyone! 
> 
> -Honey

“Wow,” Saihara mutters to himself. “It’s a bit small but at least we have separate rooms.” His dorm room was split into 4 areas—2 bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen/dining area. Dropping his bag nowhere in particular, Saihara opens the door to his room. It was basic— a twin bed sat in the corner with a desk parallel to it and boxes were piled up sporadically around the room. The rest of my stuff most likely, he thought. It was a relatively nice room for the size, but that didn’t really bother him all that much, just meant he had to be wise about using the space. Being torn from his thoughts by a few taps on his shoulder, he jumped.

“Are you Saihara-Kun?” He turned around as soon as he started speaking, seeing who was most likely his roommate.

“Oh, uh, yeah, Saihara Shuichi.” The other boy smiled a bit and held his hand out. 

“I’m Ibadashi Kiibou, but please just call me Kiibou.” Saihara gave him a questioning glance. Kiibou looked away, the smile no longer apparent. “I… I have some memories tied to my surname I’d rather forget.” I can relate to that, he thought, thinking back to his parents. They were very hands-off throughout his whole childhood, and that usually doesn’t end up very well in the long run.

“Would you be interested in joining me for breakfast? My first class doesn’t start for another hour and a half.” Kiibou suggests. Saihara nods and picks back up his bag from where he had previously dropped it when he had entered the room. Locking the door behind him, the two boys made their descent to the dining hall, Kiibou trying to make small talk with Saihara, but failing miserably.

“So, Saihara-Kun, what are you majoring in? Personally I’m studying Mechatronics with a minor in Psychology.” Saihara grips the strap of his messenger bag replying to his question. 

“Criminal Justice, no minor.” 

“Criminal Justice, huh? Do you want to be a lawyer or a detective when you get your degree? Or is it just an interest?” Once again, Saihara responded minimally.  
”Detective. I’ve already done some work in it, but decided to go into it full-time.” Man, Kiibou thought, I really cannot get through to this guy, can I? The rest of their walk to the dining hall was made in silence as they slowly arrived. Getting a bowl of cereal to eat now and some fruit for later in the day, they sat together in silence, save for the buzz of students having conversations in the background.

“Do you know anyone here at all?” Kiibou asked.

“Yeah, actually, a few. How about you?” Saihara returned the question, somewhat less hesitant than before. Kiibou nodded in response.

“My girlfriend. We’ve been together pretty much all throughout high school, and decided to apply together.” A light blush dusted his cheeks as he finished speaking. 

“Isn’t that sweet? Maybe you can introduce me to her sometime.” He gave a small chuckle before checking his watch.

“Oh, sorry, but my first class starts in 20 minutes, I’ve gotta go.” Standing, Saihara waved goodbye to his roommate. 

“Alright. Thank you for accompanying me this morning, I’ll see you later, then.” Giving a small wave, Saihara departed for his first class of the day; Business. It took him around 10 minutes to get to the lecture hall, leaving him with another 10 to get situated in the large room. Finding a seat and dropping his bag to the floor, he pulled out a notebook and pen. About 5 more minutes, he thought. 

“Oy, Shuichi-Kun!” Saihara was startled, to say the least. No one really called him by his first name, except— 

“Rantarou-Kun? Is that you?” Rantarou made his way over to Saihara, sitting in the open seat next to him. 

“What’s up? It’s been a while, how have you been?” He gave a smile, one that Saihara graciously returned.

“I’ve been good, stuff’s been a little overwhelming, but it’s nice to see you. Oh, I did meet my roommate though, his name's Kiibou. He’s quite talkative, I’ve come to find out.” Rantarou let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, I know how much you and strangers fare. Welp, you’ll have to get used to it, he is your roommate after all.” Between sentences, he reached into his back to pull out his notebook and a pen. “You’re never gonna believe who my roommate is, though.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah? Who is it?” Saihara flipped open to a blank page in his notebook, Rantarou following suit.

“Ouma Kokichi.” Saihara’s eyes went wide as he stared at Rantarou in disbelief.

“Really? I haven’t talked to him since high school. Huh, wonder what he’s taking…”

“I definitely couldn’t answer your question if I wanted to. I didn’t even see him this morning.” Saihara gave a confused face. “The only reason I knew I was rooming with him was that I snooped around a little bit. The boxes in one of the rooms were labeled with his name. It’s kinda—” But before Rantarou could finish, though, the professor walked in and the class had begun.

= = =

“Honestly, that was exactly what I expected from the introductory class.” Rantarou began as the two boys walked out of the lecture hall. “Some basic stuff and then the class is over. I’m hoping we get some actual education, next class.” Saihara gave a small laugh at his remark. Checking his phone, Rantarou began again. “Well, I have about three and a half hours until my next class, how about you?” Saihara copied him in checking his own phone and saw that he had about two and a half until his.

“Two and a half. We could always check out the library since it’s pretty central.” Rantarou gave a nod, and they were off.

-

Arriving at the library, Saihara underestimated how big it was. It was two stories and filled to the brim with books and bookshelves. There were tables and armchairs spread throughout the first floor and some snack and drink machines near the entrance. Strolling through the maze of bookshelves, Saihara happened to catch a glance of a short boy in front of the ‘Neuroscience’ section, an increasingly large stack of books in his arms. He pulled out one book after another, adding to his stack having it nearly fall over. Saihara looked forward again, walking towards one of the tables Rantarou picked out, dropping his bag to the ground near the table leg.

“So what should we do? We have quite a bit of time on our hands, and while I do love a good book, I don’t think reading for three and a half hours is any fun. At least not academic books.” Saihara retrieved his computer out of his bag and went to see what books he’d need for his classes. It wouldn’t make sense to get them now since he’d have to carry them with him, but he’d most likely come and get them later in the evening when he didn’t have any classes left for the day. He’d at least make a list of what he needed so he didn’t need to bring his computer when he came.

“Well,” Saihara started, pulling a notepad and pen out of his bag. “I’m going to make a list of the books I need for the classes I’m taking, and I suggest you do the same, Rantarou-kun.” Peering at his computer, he started jotting down titles and authors quickly on the small pages.

“I could but I think I’ll do that after my next class. I’m gonna sleep for the time I have right now. I didn’t get any sleep last night because I was getting some stuff ready last minute.” He gave a small laugh before laying his head on his arms on the table. “Wake me when you leave, Shuichi-Kun.” Saihara gave a small noise of acknowledgment, and before he knew it, it was silent, save for the noise of the pen, the keyboard, and the notepad when he flipped a full page.

“Christ,” He muttered under his breath. “There can’t be this many books I need.” Sighing, Saihara finished his task, proceeding to do other mindless things to wait out his break period before heading to his second class of the day

-

“Another introductory class,” Saihara pulled out his phone to a few messages from Momota about dinner soon and who was coming. It would be a small group, just Momota, Harukawa, Akamatsu, and himself. It was already quite late, the day seemingly passing him by as fast as it had started, so he thought it a good idea to go to the dining hall early since their meeting time was relatively soon. His idea wasn’t as good as he thought it was in retrospect. Akamatsu and Harukawa had both shown up not much longer than he did, but Momota was nowhere to be found. ten minutes later—nothing. Another ten later—still nothing. 

“Good God, where is he? I’m not going to keep waiting for him, he can come find us when he gets here, if ever.” Harukawa huffed angrily, making her way into the dining hall. 

“You coming, Shuichi?” Akamatsu asked, hesitantly following Harukawa.

“Oh, uh, just go on without me, I’ll wait here for him.” He shifted in place and played with his bag strap. “Could you text me where you sit, though? So I can find you?” Akamatsu nodded, and the two girls disappeared into the busy room leaving him to stand near the entrance. It has been a while, I wonder what happened, he thought, pulling out his phone and inputting Momota’s number. It rang a few times before he finally picked up.

“‘Ello?” Saihara let out a sigh of relief.

“Momota, where are you? It’s half an hour past our meeting time, I got worried.” 

“Shit—yeah, sorry, I was doing something and started running late, I’m on my way now though, I’ll be there in five.”

“W-wait—” But before Saihara could finish his sentence, Momota hung up. A sigh left the boy's mouth as he leaned up against the wall behind him. About five minutes later, the time Momota said he’d show up, he was actually there.

“Yo, sorry for making you guys wait. Are the girls inside?” Momota asked, somewhat out of breath, seeing as how he most likely ran over here to not waste any more time. “Also, were ya out here the whole time? It’s freezing out, you should’ve gone inside with them.” Saihara gave a dismissive wave. 

“Momota, you can’t be friends with me for almost eleven years and not expect me to wait for you. I just got worried, I’m fine though, really.” Momota sighed in response and pushed the other boy into the dining hall.

-

Their dinner together was comfortable, Momota and Akamatsu both chatting about what had happened to them that day, Harukawa and Saihara contentedly eating their food without being bothered.

“Oh, but you guys will never believe who I saw in my Chemistry class today.” Momota began. 

“Oh yeah? Who?” Akamatsu asked, taking a bite of the sushi in front of her.

“Fuckin’ Ouma. I’ve got no clue what the hell he’s takin’, but I apparently get to see him every week.” He crossed his arms. “Isn’t that great?” 

“Oh, yeah, I heard he was here from Amami. Apparently they’re rooming with each other.” Saihara spoke, stealing a roll from Akamatsu’s plate which resulted in her pulling her plate as close as possible to herself.

“Really? I wonder how he’s going to put up with him. He was a little shit in high school, so he’s probably still a little shit now.” Momota grumbled. Saihara gave a small laugh and a smile in return.

“Have some faith, Kaito. He can’t still be that bad. I’m hoping.” Momota put a hand to his chin in thought when Saihara finished speaking. 

“Well,” He began. “I did see him in Chem, but all he did was stare at me. No interaction, nothing. It was creepy, to say the least, but maybe that’s just part of his plan—freak me out, find me, and then kill me in my sleep.” Momota slammed a hand on the table making drinks slosh around in their cups and both Momota’s and Harukawa’s ramen spilled slightly out of their bowls. Saihara and Akamatsu both gave a small laugh and gave a look of pity towards Momota who was being intimidated by Harukawa.

“Do you want to die?” Her chopsticks nearly broke in half because of how hard she was holding them. Momota gave a hasty apology as she stared at him with a small glare. Akamatsu giggled at the scene unfolding before her.

“Harukawa-chan, you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to” Harukawa indignantly sighed.

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway because Kaito would have dragged me out here anyway, so I should just go along with it.” Momota beamed at her words.

“You know me too well, Maki!” The rest of dinner was had in comfortable silence, the buzz of other students talking around them. The only times they would really speak during the rest of their time would be in protest when they would steal some of each other's food. After a good while, Saihara excused himself to go back to his dorm, everyone then following in suit. 

-

It was nearly ten at night when Saihara had gotten back to his dorm. Unlocking the door, he could hear a voice coming from Kiibou’s room. He’s probably here, He thought, but then who else is here? He could have sworn he heard a female voice come from the room as well. Dropping his bag to the floor, he gave a few small knocks to Kiibou’s door, which resulted in Kiibou and the girl to start bickering. The door finally opened to reveal the white-haired boy.

“Oh hey Saihara-Kun, you’re back I see—Miu, stop touching my things!” He scolded ‘Miu’ from over his shoulder.

“Should I leave? I-I can go.” Kiibou waved his hands in protest.

“No, you don’t have to go. Miu was just leaving, isn’t that right?” He slightly raised his voice at the last part.

“Yeah, yeah, babe, I’ll leave. Lemme at least meet your roommate though.” Kiibou opened his door the rest of the way to reveal a girl with blonde hair, standing somewhat taller than Kiibou. She snerked looking Saihara up and down.

“Who’re you, huh?” Saihara immediately became flustered and responded quickly.

“S-Saihara Shuichi, um,” 

“He doesn’t talk much, huh?” She whispered to Kiibou.

“Please just be nice to him, Miu.” He said, sending Saihara a concerned glance.

“Well, I’m Iruma Miu! Don’t cross me, okay? I’ll beat your virgin ass to the ground!” At that remark, Kiibou started pushing Iruma out of the dormitory. She bent down a tad to give him a kiss, Kiibou responding afterwards with ‘I’ll text you later, okay?’. Closing the door completely, he looked back at Saihara.

“S-she’s confident, huh?” Kiibou only let out a sigh.

“She’s… She’s a lot sometimes. She actually is really nice once you get to know her though.” He began to go to his room. “Don’t let her insults or names get to you though. They really mean nothing. I’ve tried to get her to stop but… As you can see.” Saihara nodded slowly. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. T-thanks.”

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything from me then. I need to see what she touched if anything. Goodnight Saihara-Kun.”

“Goodnight Kiibou-Kun.” Seeing the door close, Saihara retreated to his own room. There were still boxes piled up from when he saw them this morning. Taking his bag into his room, he dropped it near the bed and started opening boxes until he found his clothes, specifically some sleepwear. He fell over onto his bed, checking what notifications he had left on his phone. There was one from a group chat he was in that had Momota, Harukawa, Akamatsu, and himself in it. Akamatsu was one of Saihara’s closest friends, so Momota invited her into their friend group, though Harukawa still isn’t as close to her as Momota would have wanted them to be by now. The message was from Akamatsu. It was just a photo with a captioning text that said ‘Took this during dinner! First meal on campus together! :P ☆’. Saihara smiled to himself at that, responding with ‘It was fun :)’, before checking other things. He absentmindedly scrolled through his photo gallery, seeing a bunch of recent pictures he had taken of scenery or friends. As he kept scrolling, he came upon some a bunch of pictures from his high school years— Pictures of him with his friend group, some pictures of and with Akamatsu, pictures of food, and a bunch of other stuff and people too. Scrolling down just a bit more, there were some pictures he had forgotten about completely. They were of Ouma from when he stole his phone. He was making weird faces and hand signs in all of the pictures, which then got him wondering.

“Do I still have his number?” He muttered to himself going to his contacts. Scrolling down to ‘O”, he saw that, yes, he did indeed still have Ouma’s number. They hadn’t talked since their senior graduation, which was around four or five years ago. It wouldn’t hurt to text him, right? He thought, but then immediately decided against it, putting his phone on the nightstand next to his bed. Pulling the covers over himself, he went to sleep thoughtlessly for the first time in a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a liiiiiitle bit longer than I first expected, but not by much. Just really wanted to do some interactions between the boys! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I honestly can't wait to write chapter 3! Thanks for reading what I have so far! <3  
> -Honey

“Shit,” Saihara muttered, rushing to get his shoes on. “I might be late at this rate.” Grabbing his bag, he rushed out the door, not even bothering to lock it as Kiibou was still inside. Practically running across the campus, he arrived at the lecture hall with about ten minutes to spare. Randomly choosing a seat next to someone and sitting down, he let out a long sigh. “Christ, why’d I have to take such an early class.” Upon dropping his stuff to the floor, though, he saw from the corner of his eye that whoever he had sat next to had jumped from the noise. About to apologize, the other person spoke before he could.

“S-Saihara?” The person said. Saihara quickly looked to the person seated next to him to reveal none other than the fabled Ouma Kokichi.

“Ouma? Oh, wow, I didn’t realize we had any classes together.” He sat up, retrieving his notebook from his bag.

“I didn’t even know you went here. I mean, we did lose contact after highschool, but how’d you know I even went here, Saihara-chan?” Ouma fidgeted with the pen in his hands.

“Rantarou and Kaito.” Ouma sighed and muttered an ‘of course’. Saihara finally took a good look at Ouma. He had big, round glasses on his face and his hair pulled back, yet a few strands escaped.

“See something you like?” Ouma smirked at the now flustered boy.

“A-ah, no, I was just seeing if you had changed at all since highschool. You haven’t really changed much.” Saihara tried to regain his composure. “Er, wait, not that not changing isn’t a bad thing, it—” Saihara grumbled at his own ramblings, but got a small laugh from Ouma. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself. You haven’t changed at all.” Ouma began to write the date on his notebook paper while Saihara tried to say something in response.

“Oh, uh, thanks?” Saihara questioned. “Your glasses are new though. I don’t recall you ever wearing them in highschool.” He said. Ouma shrugged a reply.

“I’ve had them, I just never wore them, made me look like a nerd. But now,” As for effect, he pushed his glasses up. “I’m kind of forced to wear them since these rooms are so fuckin’ big.” Saihara nodded along with what Ouma was saying.

“Then why not get contacts?” Once again, he shrugged.

“I did at one point, but I honestly just couldn’t handle touching my eyes, y’know? So my only option is glasses. Happy?” Saihara just gave a ‘hm’ noise in response.

“You look good in them.” Saihara said, a sudden burst of confidence. This seemed to spark something in Ouma, as he stopped writing, and quickly turned to face Saihara.

“Oh? Do I now? You’re not falling in love with me now, are you? Ack, but you’re too young for me!” Ouma feigned hurt and sadness, only getting a sigh and a small smile from Saihara.

“We’re the same exact age, Ouma-kun” The bespectacled boy shook his head.

“‘Course you wouldn’t remember, Saihara-chan. I’m one year older than you.” Saihara was sent into shock at that sentence. He is? Oh wait, he is older than me. Saihara then remembered going to Ouma’s 17th birthday party while he himself had only turned 16 that year. He was torn from his recollection by the sound of Ouma biting into an apple, which then prompted him into remembering that he hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning.

“Shit,” he groaned.

“What? You realize that this world is just a simulation and you can’t escape?” Ouma outlandishly suggested. Saihara just responded as if Ouma said a completely normal thing.

“No,” He rested his head on his arms on the pull-out desk in front of him. “I forgot to eat breakfast since I woke up late and had to rush here.” As to probably rub it in his face, Ouma took a bite of his apple.

“Welp, I’m not sharing with you since this is the only thing I’ve got.” Saihara huffed, listening to the conversations other students were having. Just as he was about to close his eyes, an apple came into his view on the desk. 

“Huh?” Saihara leaned up and glanced towards Ouma. The plum-haired boy pulled his knees to his chest in his chair, since he was surprisingly still small enough to do that, and took the last bite of his own apple.

“That was a lie, Saihara-chan. I’ve always got loads of food on me. Actually everything I have is edible, you see.” Saihara cracked a smile at his remark.

“Okay, now that was a lie,” He picked up the apple, looking away from Ouma. “But really, thanks. I mean it.”

“Well don’t get too comfortable because that was a one time thing! No more snacks from me, you hear?” Saihara took a bite of his apple.

“For sure. I can’t make any promises though.”

=

It was a bit late after his second class had gotten finished, however it wasn’t late enough to qualify it as dinner time. Deciding that, he thought it would be a good idea to familiarize himself with the moderately sized campus. The library was central, with the countless lecture halls looming around it, the dorms not being as far away as he thought. The dining hall was near the dorms, which he already knew, and there were a few shops and food places scattered around. It wasn’t a complete familiarization of the campus layout yet, seeing as he had only been there about 2 days, save for a few visits a little while back, but it would do. It had been around two-ish hours of walking around, and by the time he was done, he’d meet his friends for dinner. On his way there, though, he happened to pass by Ouma, who said nothing even though he’s pretty sure he saw Saihara.

“Hey Ouma.” He stopped walking and turned around to face Saihara.  
“Hey.” He began to turn back around, but not before the taller boy began speaking.

“Since I found you, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner. It’d just be me and a few friends if you’re not busy.” Ouma looked away and readjusted the stack of books he held in his hands.

“Sorry, as much as I’d like to go and pester Momota, I’m assuming that’s who you’re talking about, I’ve gotta go do other stuff. I’ll see you later, Saihara-chan.” Ouma fully turned around now, Saihara not stopping him, and walked away.

“Bye.” He said to Ouma, but it was really just to himself now. The feeling of water droplets on his face encouraged him to make his way to the dining hall. “Let’s just hope the rain doesn’t pick up any time soon.”

-

“So I saw Ouma today in one of my classes.” Saihara spoke. 

“Did he try to pull anything? I swear to god—” 

“Nonono, Momota, I’m fine. Look, I know you guys butted heads in highschool, but I think some stuff has changed.” Momota sent a doubtful glance towards Saihara. “For one, yes, I’m pretty sure he still lies.” Saihara absentmindedly swirled around the ramen in his bowl with his chopsticks as he spoke. “But I’ve noticed at some points he’s become more honest. He’s a bit nicer too.” 

“What if it’s just an act? He’s probably playing you, Shuichi.” I mean, could be right, Saihara thought. His only real experiences with him were during school, but even then none of his particularly rotten antics were directed at Saihara. There was a full 4 years they hadn’t shared a single interaction, so honestly, Saihara wouldn’t be able to tell anymore if Ouma was faking it—but he’d damn well try.

“It’s not.” Momota opened his mouth to say something, but got interrupted before he could start.  
“Kaito, I know what you’re going to say, but please just trust my judgement.” He picked his bag up from where it was on the floor and stood up. “I think I’m gonna go, I need to get some books before they’re not available anymore. Sorry. I’ll see you guys later.” Approaching the entrance to the dining hall, he pulled out his umbrella before going any further. “Of course it picked up.” He huffed. “To the library, I suppose.” And off he went.

-

Once again, the library was overwhelming when we stepped inside. Giving his umbrella a good shake, he put it back inside his bag before pulling out the notepad he wrote his list of books on the day prior. Flipping to the first of the small pages, he went around to the many bookshelves associated with the classes he was taking, and one by one, his stack of books grew. Slowly, it became increasingly more difficult to carry the stack he had, but he couldn’t just simply put them down somewhere and leave. Looking at his notepad for the next book of many, at that moment, the stack somehow became lighter.

“You’re going to hurt yourself trying to carry all of these at once.” It was Ouma. He’d taken a large portion off the stack of books Saihara was carrying, and he was honestly thankful.

“A-ah, Ouma-kun, you really didn’t have to, I—” 

“Yeah right, you probably would have died if I wasn’t here right now.” An arrogant smile made its way onto his face and Saihara chuckled a bit. “What do you need all of these books for?” Ouma began to look through what he had in his stack. “Not even I need that many books and I’m dual-majoring. This is just crazy.”

“I’m just going off of what the class recommended I have.” Ouma looked at him wide-eyed, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Saihara-chan, those are recommendations. You don’t need every book that they list.” He began to walk away, Saihara tailing him. “Even if you did anyway, you could probably just pirate ‘em online.” They had approached the area Ouma had been obviously hanging out at for god knows how long. It was extremely telling that it was him here, though—empty and half-drank grape Panta bottles littered the table he was at, along with an old black check-pattern backpack off to the side. There were a few books here and there, both opened and closed, surrounding an open notebook and computer.

“I don’t—uh, I don’t actually know how to do that.” Ouma dropped the books on his table and spun around to face Saihara.

“Really? I thought practically everyone knew how,” Ouma snatched the last of the books Saihara had out of his hands and put them with the rest. “Huh, shows what I know, I guess.”

Saihara glanced around once more at the table and the items crowding it. He probably never would have pegged someone like Ouma as the type to generally care about his studies, let alone dual-major.

“Anyway, what exactly are you studying?” He shifted in place, notepad being unknowingly taken from his hands. “I know we have that Social Psychology class together, but I still don’t know exactly what you’re studying.” Ouma sat down in front of his computer and scooted over a small stack of books—a gesture for Saihara to sit down next to him.

“Christ, the internet here is bad.” The plum-haired boy began to rapidly type away at his keyboard, glancing at the open notepad next to him every so often. “Well, to answer your question, I’m majoring in both Social Psychology itself and Neuropsychiatry.” Oh, Saihara thought, so that’s who I saw yesterday. It made sense in retrospect when he thought about it. 

“Surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner, detective, based on what books I have here. ” Ouma simply kept typing book names and authors into a website Saihara couldn’t identify as he spoke.

“Huh? Wh—”

“It’s what you’re studying, yeah? Look, if I know you, it’s probably something along the lines of law or criminal justice.” Ouma turned to face Saihara, eyes only moving off the computer screen when he went to continue talking. “Either that or you’re a clone sent here to kill me.” Ouma’s eyes went wide and childishly sparkled as he smiled. “You gotta tell me something only the real Saihara-chan would know!” Saihara, slightly jarred from the other boy’s louder-than-necessary tone of voice, decided to play along with one of his many antics and put a hand to his chin in thought. 

“Well,” He started, “I know you kept a racoon as a pet for around a month and then let it go because you felt bad that you couldn’t take care of it.” Ouma huffed at his statement, his smile becoming less apparent.

“I didn’t feel bad, I just wanted it to wreak more havoc on the world and it couldn’t do that from the confines of my home.” Saihara playfully rolls his eyes at the obvious lie from Ouma.

“Uh huh, yeah, okay. Anyway, how long have you been here?” He pulled out his phone to check the time. “Surely you haven’t been here since I invited you to dinner earlier, have you?” Ouma didn’t respond, turning away from Saihara, seemingly ignoring him. “You have, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, so what?” Ouma shifts in his seat slightly. “I’m an adult, I can use my time however I want to.” 

“Ouma-kun, it’s been about 3, maybe 4, hours since I saw you last,” Saihara put a pensive hand to his chin. “and I know for a fact you weren’t in the dining hall.” 

“What, are you gonna start lecturing me on my eating habits now? You’re not my mom, Saihara-chan.” Ouma grumbled and leaned back into the plush leather of his chair.

“No, but I don’t think living on a diet of, what I can tell, purely Panta is very healthy—”

“I had an apple this morning too, and you even watched me eat it. I can eat whatever the hell I want, I’m an adult, I keep saying this.” Saihara sighs in defeat.

“Look, I can’t force you to eat better, but I can at least urge you to.” He proceeds to stand up, gathering his things. “Another thing I’m going to urge you to do is go to bed. It’s nearly midnight, and I don’t think a messed up sleep schedule on top of a terrible diet is very conducive to productivity.”  
“Wow, looks like someone whipped out the old thesaurus.” Saihara couldn’t find any humor in the remark, and it seemed that neither could Ouma.

“It’s—I,” The taller boy fumbled with his words. “I just worry. About everyone. And I worry even more about my friends—”

“Hold on. You… you still consider us friends? Even though we haven’t spoken a single word to each other in 4 years?” Ouma’s question asked hesitantly.

“Y-yeah. Our memories and interactions are still there even if there was some time we didn’t talk, so I’d say we’re still friends, even now.” Ouma’s eyes analyzed every part of Saihara’s face in search of a lie, a trick, something—but he found nothing. No hint of malice or deception whatsoever apparent in his pale lemon eyes. Ouma sighed at this, looking at anything but Saihara in that moment.

“You really are something, huh, Saihara-chan?” Reluctantly closing his computer, he began to put what things he had out into his bag. “If you do want me to get the rest of your books though, I’m going to have to keep your notepad for now.” Standing, he sorts through the remaining books left on the table, taking the ones that would most likely be beneficial to have physically. Saihara receives a stack larger than the one he had taken from himself prior, and he’s directed by Ouma to put them on a nearby cart

“I thought you said I didn’t need any of these?” Saihara questions Ouma after receiving 2 books that weren’t in the stack going to the cart.

“I never said you didn't need any of them, just that you didn’t need all of them. Now, you said you were gonna walk me to my room?” Saihara became flustered at the shorter boy’s remark.

“W-what? I n-never said that!” Ouma smiled innocently and pushed his glasses up.

“It was implied. You want me to have a good sleep schedule, right? Walk me to my room.” Ouma started walking and yelled to Saihara when he noticed the other boy lagging behind. “Come on, you practically wanted this!”  
-

The two approached the entrance of the library, stopping once the open door revealed the outside.

“It’s pouring.” 

“Yeah, thanks, detective. Never would have figured that out myself.” Ouma groaned and looked at the books in both of their hands. “What now? The books’ll get soaked if we go, and it’s no guarantee they’ll be here tomorrow if we check.”

“I’ve got an umbrella in my bag, I can get it out if you hold these,” Handing Ouma the books he held, he retrieved the compact umbrella he used earlier in the day. “It’s a bit small but it’s better than nothing. Come on,” Squeezing underneath the small umbrella, they began their moderately long walk back to the dormitory.

=

“Did we really have to be that close? Or was your goal the whole time to get me into bed?!” Their ascent up the stairs began with normal conversation, but the closer they got to Ouma’s dorm, the weirder he became.

“W-what? No! The umbrella could barely fit me, let alone two people!” Saihara frantically opposed Ouma.

“I was just kidding anyway. I know you wouldn’t do something like that.” He puts his hands behind his head as he continues to speak. “No one would want to do something like that with me in general.” A melancholy feeling settled in the air around them as Ouma finished.

“What do you mean by that?”

“For a detective, you sure are dense.” Ouma sighs and stops climbing the stairs. “I’m still a liar, Saihara-chan, whether you like it or not. Liars aren’t necessarily desirable in any sense.” Saihara stops.

“I wouldn’t say that. There are plenty of things people could find desirable about you. You just need to find the person who will like you for being you, and not a person that’ll pick and choose what traits they like and what traits they don’t.” Ouma practically feels Saihara’s eyes analyze him as he continues talking. “I’ve seen you be more honest over the past 2 days than I have in high school. Your self-classification of ‘liar’ isn’t really so true anymore, to me at least.” Saihara smiled at the shorter boy a few steps below him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re still young, Ouma-kun. Come on, it’s late.” Saihara begins walking, Ouma slowly following suit. 

-

They arrive at Ouma’s dorm room, and say their goodbye’s to each other. Quickly entering the dorm, Ouma drops his bag onto the floor in his room, not really caring whether or not Amami was sleeping. Setting his books on the desk near the door, he trudges over to his bed, practically collapsing when he reaches it. Moving his glasses to his night stand, he buries his head in his hands.

“I cannot let this happen again. I can’t.” Not even bothering to change his clothes, he tugs his shoes off and lies in bed. “I won’t be fucked over by this, not again.” 

And there it was once more.

4 years hidden, 4 years forgotten, 2 days remembered— 

Ouma Kokichi’s heart-wrenching crush on Saihara Shuichi.

And there was nothing he could do about it except cover it up with lies and deceit.

Just like he did 4 years prior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading this chapter and for the kudos! Means a lot and motivates me to write!  
> Also, don't hurt me because I don't necessarily know how the college school system works! I have a good idea, but I'm not expert! Anyway, see you next week! <3  
> -Honey


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, sorry this is a bit late! I haven't been feeling good as of late, so I do apologize! I hope you like this chapter!
> 
> -Honey <3

Saihara woke up the next morning to soft knocks at his door. Groggy, he rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed checking the time on his phone. The muffled voice of Kiibou came from the other side of the door as Saihara was getting dressed.

“Saihara-Kun? Are you awake yet? I was wondering if you were interested in joining me for breakfast.” Putting the rest of his things in his bag and throwing on a jacket, he opens the door revealing the white-haired boy staring up at him. 

“Yeah, I’ll go.” A smile graced Kiibou’s face as he led them out of the room and to their destination. It was silent their whole walk there, save for the sound of their footsteps and the conversations of other students occasionally passing them by on the stairwell. They had arrived at the dining hall, and after a short while of getting their food, the two boys made their way to an empty table nearby. The busy hum of students talking and silverware clattering against ceramic was pleasant to Saihara. Kiibou would ask a question here and there, mainly asking general things about Saihara, but their morning meal was mainly eaten in comfortable silence. That is until someone found them.

“Saihara-chan! And with Kii-boy no less!” Saihara looked over to see who had spoken to the pair, and, unsurprisingly, it was Ouma. “Never thought I’d see you guys here together!” Setting his plate of pancakes that had practically every sweet topping imaginable on it, he took up residence in the seat next to Saihara.

“Didn’t know you had such a sweet-tooth, Ouma-Kun.” Saihara commented, eyeing Ouma’s sweet creation.

“Ugh, you seriously haven’t changed since middle school, Ouma.” Kiibou momentarily glances at Ouma’s plate, immediately looking elsewhere after he does. “I’m getting sick just looking at that.” Saihara swallows down a bite of his food, a confused expression settling on his face.

“Huh? Wait, you two know each other?” Ouma chuckled at Saihara’s blatant confusion.

“Surprised, Saihara-chan?Kii-boy and I over here went to middle school together,” Ouma accusingly pointed his fork at Kiibou. “but then he totally ditched me when we went to high school!” 

“I didn’t ditch you, I was accepted into a school that was better aligned with my studies.” Kiibou defended. 

“Riiight, and you just happened to go to the same school Miu would be going to.” The other boy became flustered after Ouma spoke.

“Th-that’s absolutely not true! It was j-just a coincidence!” He turned to Saihara, desperate for someone on his side. “C’mon, Saihara-Kun, you believe me, right?” Saihara shrugged and loosely hung his fork to the side. 

“I mean, I can’t really choose sides when neither provides evidence for what happened.” Saihara brought his fork to his mouth, realizing that the piece of fried dough was missing. 

“Geez, Saihara, your taste is bland as hell.” Ouma had taken the piece of pancake for himself, which was surprising because his plate was completely empty, save for the few remnants of sprinkles and whipped cream still left. “Whatever,” Ouma stood from his seat, grabbing his bag in the process. “Whether you begged your parents to let you go to that school or not is none of my business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have my math class in twenty minutes. See you guys.” Ouma begins walking off, but not before Saihara also excuses himself and joins Ouma.”I see you’ve resorted to following me now. There are more subtle ways to go about getting my attention, y’know.” 

“Ah, no, it seems we just have the same math class, is all.” Saihara, expecting a bewildering response from the boy, was met with silence. It was a weird feeling to Saihara, to not have Ouma constantly talking. He was comfortable with silence, but it was strange this time around.

“Yo, Shuichi!” Just as the two had arrived at the lecture hall, a familiar voice called out to Saihara. Turning, he saw Momota running up to them.

“Hey, Kaito.” Saihara greeted him.

“Christ, I’m taking math but I did not put two and two together fast enough,” Ouma muttered, ignoring the two and entering the hall.

“What’s with him?” Kaito sneered at the empty place Ouma was once at. Saihara simply sighed, an upset look crossing his face.

“He was probably surprised to see he actually had 2 classes with you instead of one,” Saihara eyed the entrance absentmindedly. “Not that I’d blame him, honestly, since I know you two have always had a sour relationship.”

“Well, he’s not the only one. Whatever, let’s go.” Mildly annoyed, Momota enters the hall, nearly knocking over Ouma, who appeared to be calling someone, in the process. Saihara approached the shorter boy in the hopes of trying to apologize for Momota but quickly noticed something was off.

“You okay?” Quickly hanging up on whoever he was calling, Ouma tried to compose himself to no avail.

“Uh, y-yeah, I’m fine. Let’s just go sit down.” Saihara nodded and followed the still frazzled boy as he went and surprisingly sat down next to Momota. A questioning glance from Saihara was sent to Ouma and his response was simply, “You lagged behind. Not like I wanted to sit with him anyway, but I know you did.”

Momota inwardly groaned at Ouma’s decision to sit next to him. “Shut it, Momota, I already know like, 10 of the things you’d say to me.” He retrieved his things from his bag as he continued to speak. “Hell, it wouldn’t be difficult to talk to Saihara-chan literally behind my back, seeing as the topic of my height likes to be thrown around, too.” Momota then flashed a condescending smile at Ouma.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m a changed man. Shuichi here has been vouching for you being a good person now,” A hand was roughly slapped onto Ouma’s back. “but I just want to see it for myself.” 

Ouma immediately tensed up at the unexpected contact, and as if out of instinct, or maybe habit, he reached back to remove Momota’s hand. “P-please don’t-don’t touch me. Don’t. P-please.” His voice was shaky as he pleaded and he dropped what he was holding prior to the contact. His desperate words didn’t go unheard, though, as Momota immediately removed his hand, and his doubtful look was instantly replaced with one of guilt as he heard quiet sobs come from the shorter boy.

“E-excuse me.” Ouma picked up his bag and quickly made his way out of the hall, not even bothering to collect what things he’d dropped. Saihara, now torn between attending his class and going after Ouma, came to a decision.

“Kaito, could you give me what notes there were, if any, after class? Please?” Momota, still winding down from the mild shock, nodded.

“Oh, uh, yeah, for sure.” Saihara proceeded to pick up the things Ouma had dropped and then his own. “And, uh, tell him I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad. Really.” Saihara nodded back, and went out to find Ouma.

-

After about 15 minutes of searching for Ouma, he’d finally found him on a bench outside of one of the few cafes on campus. He was faced away from Saihara, but the taller boy could tell he was doing something. Getting closer, he found out that Ouma was on the phone with someone, he couldn’t tell who though.

“...I thought I was getting better, but I guess not. I’m still overreacting… Yeah, I know… I’m trying, you know that… Yeah… Thanks… Oh, okay, bye then.” And then he hung up. Saihara took this chance to make his presence known to the boy near him.

“Ouma-kun, I finally found you.” Ouma whipped around to face Saihara, who was practically standing over him behind the bench. He was disheveled, hair messy from being messed with too much, glasses dirtied with smudges and water marks, and fading tear tracks, both from crying. “H-hey, are you okay?” Almost as if on cue, Ouma sniffled and turned away.

“Yeah. What’s it to you, huh?” The defensive tone in Ouma’s voice made it apparent something was up. Saihara shifted in place and walked around the bench to be in front of Ouma.

“I was just worried. Am I not allowed to be worried about my friends?” Ouma stood from his seat and grabbed his bag, intending to leave, but Saihara stopped him before he could. “Look, whatever happened to trigger that isn’t any of my business,” He held out Ouma’s items to him. “But if you want someone to talk to about it—about anything, you can come to me.” The bespectacled boy snatched his things and said one last thing before walking off.

“There’s no point in saying anything if there’s nothing to say.” 

And with that, Ouma had left. Saihara’s outstretched arm dropped to his side as he stood alone, staring blankly in the direction Ouma went. He only began to move once he hesitantly reached for his phone, going directly to Ouma’s contact.

**Me | Kaito said he’s sorry too**   
**Me | Sorry if I came off pushy also**

It was a few minutes before Ouma responded to his texts, which during that time Saihara sat on the bench nearby.

**Ouma | w/e**   
**Ouma | tell him he can suck my dick though**

Saihara chuckles at the other boys’ response.

**Me | Yeah, I’ll be sure to pass that on to him**

**Ouma | ty ur the best**

Letting out a somewhat relieved sigh, for Ouma seemed to be doing better and whoever was on the phone with him had calmed him before he could try, Saihara checked the time. It wasn’t nearly time for his next class, but he couldn’t necessarily go back to his previous one. His only real option right now would be to wait. 

=

The day had slowly come to an end, the troubles of this morning still freshly apparent in Saihara’s mind. The boy was lazily hanging around his room watching a movie on his computer, continually getting distracted by the smallest things. First, it was the humming of the computer’s fan, next, it was the muffled sound of Kiibou on the phone in their common space. No matter what he tried though, he just couldn’t get his mind off of the day’s earlier events. What had happened that caused Ouma to react to a single touch like that? What had happened when he wasn’t around?

Saihara could definitely tell this was something recent. Thinking back, all throughout high school, he was interacted with and touched quite a bit, but now? Now it’s like he couldn’t even get close to the boy without him tensing up. At this thought, Saihara was determined to figure out what had happened. Closing his computer and getting out of bed, he made sure to leave the dorm without disturbing Kiibou. Exiting the dormitory building, Saihara was met with chilling winter air flooding his lungs as he breathed in. It was near sunset, and plenty of students still roamed the campus. One of those students, Saihara noticed, was Amami.

“Ah, Rantarou!” The green-haired boy looked up from his phone and gave a friendly smile to Saihara. 

“What’s up, Shuichi? How are you?” Amami asked. Saihara fiddled with his bag strap as he began to speak.

“I’m doing fine, but I actually wanted to ask you something,” Saihara shifted in place, mentally figuring out how to word his next question. “You room with Ouma-kun, right?” Amami nods. “Well, I was wondering if Ouma’s said anything to you. I don’t know how much contact you guys had outside of high school, but I’m worried about him.” Amami puts a hand to his chin in thought.

“No, I don’t think he’s said anything. Then again, we rarely see each other.” Saihara sighs in disappointment. “But, he did crash at my place at some points after high school. He never really told me why, and I’m not the type to try and forcefully pry. Other than that, we haven’t talked very much. Sorry.” Saihara waved his hands in protest at Amami’s apology.

“N-no, it’s fine. I’ll have to talk to Kiibou-Kun to see if he knows more, but thank you anyway. We should hang out more, Rantarou,” Saihara began to walk away from the taller boy as he nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll see you later, Shuichi.” A small wave came from Saihara.

“See you.”

His short time outside was an unexpected success. Getting that small sliver of information from Amami was enough to start forming some possible hypotheses. Did he have to run away from something? Someone, possibly? Or, on a more positive note, did he just want to see Amami? There were a plethora of ideas that could potentially be true, but he was pulled from his thoughts as the change in the air from outside to inside the dormitory was realized by his body. The trek back to his shared dorm was short, and he was prepared to ask Kiibou the same questions he did Amami, so long as he was still there and not busy. 

Unlocking the door, Saihara quickly made himself at home, seeing that the common space was now empty. Knocking on Kiibou’s door, he eagerly awaited a response.

“Ah, hello Saihara-Kun, what can I do for you?” Saihara let out a breath—Kiibou was here, and it was time for questioning.

“I was wondering if you could answer some questions I had about Ouma.” Kiibou nodded and stepped out of his room and into the small hall.

“Uh, yeah, sure. What brought this up all of a sudden?” Saihara sighed and looked pensively to the floor.

“Something happened today and I’m worried. Did you two have contact with each other throughout the past 4 years by any chance?” Leading the two to the small sofa in the common space, Kiibou responded.

“Yes, we did. It would be in sporadic intervals, though. Sometimes I would go months without hearing from him, sometimes I wouldn’t be able to go four hours without a text. The period of time you mention, though, that’s right after the two of you graduated from high school, yes?” Saihara nodded. “As I thought.” Kiibou sighed, looking momentarily at the ground then back to Saihara. “Look, this is probably something you should be hearing from him directly, but a few months after he had graduated, he met someone,” Saihara immediately started taking mental notes and paying very close attention to what the white-haired boy was saying.

  
“I don’t necessarily know his name since he only introduced me to his partner once or twice, but he didn’t seem like a bad person. It was about a year or so later when I started noticing some changes in Ouma’s behavior. It wasn’t major things, but enough to where you could tell the difference.” Kiibou shifted uncomfortably in his place on the sofa. “A while after that, he started asking more and more if he could stay at my place. I-” He stopped talking. “I don’t think I’m in a position to be telling you more than that. I’d say if you want to know more of his story, go ask him directly.” Kiibou stood, checking the time on his phone.

“Ah, sorry, but I’ve got to go. If you do happen to ask Ouma about any of this, don’t tell him I said anything to you. Rude as he may be, I really do value him and his friendship. I wouldn’t want him knowing that I was the one who told you.” Kiibou asked.

“Y-yeah, I can see you two are close. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you, thank you for helping me out.” Saihara spoke. The shorter boy nodded and exited their dorm. Saihara pulled his phone out and went to Ouma’s contact, internally debating with himself about how he should go about asking… well, whatever he needed to ask.

**Me | Hey, you doing any better?**

It would be a few minutes before Saihara would get a response from the other boy.

**Ouma | i'm fine**   
**Ouma | like I said earlier**

**Me | Actually, you didn’t, but I’m glad to hear that**   
**Me | Anyway, I was wondering if you’d be willing to tell me about what happened today**   
**Me | I genuinely am worried, and I really do care**

There was a longer pause between Saihara’s messages and Ouma’s than previously.

Ouma | detective I know you like solving cases and all but I honestly think this is one you should close and not reopen  
Ouma | for both your sake and mine.

**Me | Look, I’m not trying to be inconsiderate of your feelings, but if there is something wrong, I want to help**   
**Me | I want to be someone you can depend on**   
**Me | If not, then what are friends for?**

Ouma | it’s none of your business.

Another long pause.

**Ouma | it could have been then, but you were nowhere to be found.**   
**Ouma | if it wasn’t your concern then, then it definitely isn’t now.**

Saihara couldn’t think anymore. He was right. He really wasn’t, in any way, allowed to say that he’s there for Ouma when he practically took a four-year absence from their friendship. Ouma’s feelings toward him at that moment made sense. Putting his phone down on the sofa cushion, not even realizing at what point he had sat back down, Saihara held his head in his hands. The 4 short buzzes from his phone are what brings his attention back to his phone.

**Ouma | it’s not that I don’t trust you anymore, I do but**   
**Ouma | it’s just a hard topic to talk about**   
**Ouma | 10 pm tmrw, 3rd floor, 6th door to the left.**   
**Ouma | you wanna talk? let’s talk.**

Anxiety started bubbling in Saihara’s gut—was he doing the wrong thing? His intentions were true, but he honestly couldn’t tell. Ouma didn’t seem too particularly pleased to be playing along with Saihara’s request, but he at least agreed, so that’s something. Right? Saihara’s muddled thoughts just kept making his anxiety worse, the hypothetical negative outcomes invading his brain, and just throwing every possibility for positive thinking out the window. Trudging to his room, he slowly curled underneath his comforter, putting another movie on his computer—not to watch, but just so he could have other noise that wasn’t his thoughts.

“I’m doing the right thing.” He muttered.

“Right?” He asked no one. The movie played in the background as he tried his best to go to sleep. Even he was surprised he’d made it this far in life, for he couldn’t be alone with his thoughts.

Especially not tonight, and starting tomorrow, every night after that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied/referenced abuse!  
> -  
> I'm super sorry for not updating whatsoever this past week! I've just been super overwhelmed with doing art for Ouma month on my Tumblr, and some pieces take longer to do than others, leaving me with almost zero time to do other stuff. This chapter's a little bit shorter than usual, but I just could bear going any longer without updating. Ty for being patient with me! <3  
> -Honey

Saihara’s day played out more lonely than he first planned. He skipped breakfast, knew no one in his classes that day, and even passed on going to dinner with his friends. HIs decisions were subconscious, he could tell that much, but the only reason he could find for the minimal interaction he had that day was his meeting with Ouma later that night. The closer the time would crawl to ten pm, the more his anxiety would overwhelm him. It’s not even that he was anxious for himself, but more for Ouma. Saihara was nearly clueless to what the other boy might tell him, and he’s not even sure if he’s prepared to hear it. His decision to try and seek out Ouma’s problems was completely on impulse, and he’s still viciously torn between whether or not he’s doing the proper thing by trying to figure out Ouma’s problems and, potentially, making them his own. 

=

It was about eight pm when Saihara was startled awake by a crashing noise outside his room. Jumping up to see what the commotion was, he flung his door open to reveal Kiibou, Iruma, and a computer broken to pieces on the floor.

“Wh—” Kiibou looked up to see Saihara, and smiled.

“Ah, hello Saihara-Kun. I hope we didn’t distract you from anything,” The shorter boy seemingly didn’t care for the piece of hardware on the floor, while Iruma was frantically picking up the pieces, muttering things along the lines of ‘I’ll fix you’ and ‘don’t worry’. Iruma sped out of the room, and Kiibou sighed.

“Don’t worry, it’s old. I usually have some things like that lying around. She likes to fix stuff, but that makes her think I’m this huge klutz since I sometimes go around and purposefully break things without her knowledge.” The boy shook his head, a smile of admiration apparent on his face. “The funny thing, though, is that I usually buy things that are already broken, but when she brings them back to me, they work like new.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” Saihara breathed out.

“Agreed. Ah, I again apologize if we’ve been a distraction to you, please have a pleasant rest of your night, Saihara-Kun.” Kiibou apologizes, retreating into his room.

‘Two hours, huh?’ Saihara thinks, ‘What am I supposed to do until then?’ The boy stood blankly in the small hallway, considering what few options he had to waste time. Entering his room, the thought of Ouma had wormed its way into his head, and as it did, a fresh pit of anxiety began bubbling in his gut, reigniting his other anxieties as well. He weighed his options and decided sleep would be the only cure for him until the clock struck ten.

=

The short walk to Ouma’s dorm room had felt like an eternity to Saihara. Nausea poked and prodded at his stomach as he approached the other boy’s dorm, only shaking it off in a partially futile attempt to calm his nerves. A few solid knocks were placed upon the door, and a very muffled ‘it’s open’ was spoken from inside. Opening the door and gently closing it behind himself, he looked between the two doors in the small hall, properly assuming that the door decorated with a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign and childishly drawn versions of Ouma himself was his destination. He opened the door cautiously, wildly thinking in the back of his mind if he were to open it any faster than that he might be attacked, but of course, nothing came. What was really there though, was— well, Saihara couldn’t really tell. The room was dark, and the only light that was on was on Ouma’s bedside table, illuminating the nasty glare he was giving Saihara. Walking a tad bit closer, he could see Ouma fully now; He was under the covers of his bed, pillow in his lap obscuring the bottom half of his face, glasses gone, and-

“That’s the hoodie I got you for your birthday back in high school.” Saihara broke the dense silence.

“Haven’t really grown out of much if you couldn’t tell,” Ouma snapped. Saihara put his hands up in defense.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought it was cool you still had it, is all.” Ouma rolled his eyes and jerked his head in toward the end of the bed, an invitation for Saihara to sit down which he hesitantly took. 

“So,” Ouma started. “Where are we starting? The main issue at hand or the root of everything since you so badly wanted to play therapist tonight.” 

“...Therapist? Wh-” 

“You sought me out, buddy-boy, which means you’re going to sit here and listen,” Ouma’s eyes became dark. “And you’re not going to like it.” Saihara swallowed hard, taking what little time he had left to calm his thoughts as much as he possibly could in that moment.

“It would begin in grade school. I was a pretty normal kid, at least I thought I was. I had siblings way older than me keep moving out, and my, uh, ‘parents’ usually let them do the housework. Er, scratch that, made them do it,” Ouma laughed dryly, tugging at the cuffs of his sweater as he spoke. “Anyway, as I progressively got older, there’d be a day where I’d be the only one left out of my siblings, and that day came sooner than I could have wanted. I think you can figure out where this is going, detective.” Saihara let out a breath, slowly nodding.

“All of their work would be transferred over to you,”

“You guessed it. I was tasked with a vast majority of exciting chores, such as cleaning, cooking, and laundry— reminder, I was still around ten or eleven at that time and I was playing goddamn Rosie the Robot for those assholes. But back then I was told that everyone’s kids normally did this. That their ‘zero-sum game’ was how everyone had lived. And I believed it.” Ouma looked off to the side, really at nothing. “But even during all that, I was still human. I made mistakes. And those mistakes were rewarded with…” Ouma made a face like he was trying to find the right words to say, but even Saihara knew what he was going to say before the words even came out of his mouth. Ouma seemingly refused to say the word. Saihara could only imagine, although he subconsciously didn’t want to, the years upon years of abuse and torment the boy was put through, and Saihara wasn’t even sure how long he had to endure it. “But… During that time, whether it was because of my crippling mental health or just how many times they told me, I was tricked into thinking th-that it was out of ‘l-love’.” Saihara became disgusted. It wasn’t towards Ouma himself though, god, no, of course not, but towards the people who ‘raised’ him, if you could even call it that. 

“Y-you’re unhappy with me too, a-aren’t you, Saihara?” Sobs began to wrack Ouma’s body as he finished speaking, slightly shuffling away from Saihara on the bed. Saihara so badly wanted to do something to comfort him, but from what happened the day prior, he wasn’t completely sure what he could do anymore. “Y-you always ha-have been!” Ouma said between hiccups.

“No, no, no, that’s not true,” Saihara instinctually leaned forward, trying to assure Ouma, but that just resulted in Ouma scrambling away from Saihara, inevitably hitting the headboard of his bed as he did. He held a hand up to cover his mouth to try and, poorly, quiet himself.

“Liar.” He muttered behind his hands. Saihara leaned back, processing the single word that Ouma had said.

“...What?”

“I said you’re a liar!” Ouma threw the pillow he was holding at Saihara with all the strength his weakened body could muster. Saihara opened his mouth to speak, yet no words came out. “If y-you really weren’t, then where did you go for four fucking years?!” Ouma’s sadness quickly turned into anger as he lunged at Saihara, tackling him off of the bed. Saihara, given no reaction time, became disoriented and nearly lost himself in hearing all the imaginary bells and alarms going off in his head—panic was setting in. Ouma was on top of Saihara, hands fastened around his neck, though not applying any force. 

“What if I were to…?” The taller boy squeezed his wide eyes shut, too paralyzed from either shock or fear to do anything, awaiting the cold hands of death to come grasping at him—but that never happened. “I… I,” Ouma removed his hands from Saihara’s neck, resting them both on his collarbone. “Where were you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Where were you when I was being beaten half to fucking death by my ex?” Saihara’s eyes opened fast. Ouma was now gripping the fabric of Saihara’s shirt, tears streaming from his eyes, and more sobs raggedly coming out of his mouth. Saihara slowly sat up, testing the waters by gently wrapping an arm around Ouma. 

“I wanted to stay in contact. I-” Saihara paused. “I was scared. Such a stupid excuse, I know,” He chuckled dryly. “But I was scared you wouldn’t. The more days that would pass, the more anxiety I got about contacting you. The more days that passed by, the more I thought about how you’d react, and every situation ended in you either just ignoring me or telling me to fuck off.” Ouma’s crying slowly subdued, and now Saihara was crying. “I-I’m sorry I r-really am. Never would I p-purposely try a-and ignore you, especially i-if I knew any of th-this was ha-appening. I’m so, so s-sorry.” Saihara used his free hand to rub his eyes, trying to compose himself. “M-my apology probably d-doesn’t mean much now, huh? I’m s-such an asshole,” Ouma released his hands from Saihara’s shirt and hesitantly returned the hug, leaning into the taller boy and resting his head on his chest. Saihara felt a nod in response to his words. 

“Yes. You are.” Ouma muttered. Saihara sniffled and made a ‘hm’ noise in agreement. “We c-can finish this later. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Ouma said in a small voice. “It just hurts too much.” 

“I’m fine with that.” Ouma slowly and reluctantly removed himself from Saihara, picking himself up from off of the boy still left on the ground. Ouma shuffled over to his bed, pulling his knees to his chest. Silence fell between the both of them.

“Sorry for almost killing you,” Ouma spoke up hoarsely. Saihara ghosted a hand near his neck, thinking about the event that happened mere minutes ago. 

“D-don’t, uh, don’t worry about it.” He dropped his hand and copied Ouma in standing up. 

“You do realize you’re now going to take the next 4 years making it up to me, right?” Ouma chuckled and Saihara sighed, nodding in response. 

“Anyway, it’s getting late, and we’ve both been through a lot tonight. I think I should be getting b-”

“Why not just crash here?” Ouma interrupts. “I know your dorm probably isn’t too far away, but I’ll just save you the trouble.” While, yes, Saihara’s dorm was on the floor below this one, Ouma would probably never openly admit he just didn’t want to be alone. “My bed is big enough for two people.” 

“I don’t have any sleep clothes even if I did want to stay.” Ouma just pointed to his door.

“I can just raid Rantarou-nii-chan’s closet for you. He’s never really here so I’d have no problem doing it.” He said flatly. “And it wouldn’t be the first time either of us would wear his clothes, y’know.” Saihara thought back to high school. Amami had invited a few people over to his house, including both Saihara and Ouma, and it had stormed so unbelievably hard that no one could go home that night, forcing the group to stay at Amami’s house— for whom he had to borrow clothes from. Saihara groaned.

“Fine, but you aren’t allowed to tell him.” Ouma clapped his hands together happily, a complete turnaround from how he was earlier, making quick work of his task. Shoving the pair of grey flannel pants in Saihara’s hands, he showed himself to the bathroom while Ouma was retrieving his computer from somewhere in the still darkened room. 

“Do you usually always have it this dark in here?” Saihara spoke as he folded his jeans and put them on a nearby chair to collect the next day.

“I tend to work better at night, so why not convince myself that it’s always night?” Saihara shrugged in response, making himself comfy in the spot next to Ouma. 

“I’m assuming we’re watching a movie? So what’re we watching?” Saihara questioned.

“I’unno, something mind-numbing and—would you please get under the comforter? It’s literally winter in Japan, you’re going to freeze to death if you don’t since the insulation here is only so-so.” Upon Ouma saying that a convenient chill overcame Saihara as he proceeded to do what he was told. 

“Thank you,” Ouma leaned back when the movie started playing, holding the same pillow he threw at Saihara earlier. “You’re not allowed to die for four years, got that?” He lazily held his pinky out for the other boy to accept.

“I’ll try my best not to.” Saihara accepted Ouma’s childish proposal, but he’d most definitely try and make it up to him, starting tonight.

-

The movie was nearly half-way done, and Saihara noticed Ouma was trying his absolute hardest not to fall asleep on Saihara. In his sleepy stupor, he fell into lying on Saihara’s side, and he honestly didn’t really mind. 

“Ouma-Kun, hey,” Saihara whispered. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“No, I can-I can stay up… I can…st…” Ouma was slurring his words, Saihara’s cue to take action as it was maybe a little bit later than they both should have stayed up. 

“Go to bed.” Ouma this time simply just slid down under the comforter and, once again, tried his best to stay awake as he waited for the other boy. Saihara closed the computer and crawled out of bed, setting it on the desk nearby. Re-settling himself underneath the thick comforter, he turned the bedside lamp off.

“Ouma-Kun, I can still see you’re awake. You can go to sleep.” Ouma groaned and shook his head.

“Ngh, what if someth… something happens… while I’m…” 

“Ouma-kun, I swear nothing will happen to you or me. I promised, remember?” Saihara brought a hand up from underneath the covers with his pinky out just to show emphasis. Ouma just made a ‘hm’ sound and told him to open his hand. Confused, yet doing as told yet again, Ouma grabbed his hand and put it to his chest.

“I’m alive, right?” Saihara could feel the faintest heartbeat from behind fabric, and he nodded.

“That’s good. Sometimes I can’t really tell. Maybe it’s because I’m so cold all the time,” At that, Saihara felt just how cold his hands really were on his skin. Ouma let go of the other boy's hand and he quickly retracted it, as if Ouma had just burned him just with his touch. 

“This is my favorite sweater y’know. It keeps me plenty warm... Probably because… because you gave… it…” And with those words, Ouma finally fell asleep. Saihara, though, was still somewhat awake now, probably because of what Ouma had just said. ‘Because of me?’ He thought. ‘Interesting.’ It had been an intense night for the two, and Saihara was still determined, even in sleep, to try and keep Ouma happy. Because that’s what friends do, right? ‘But… what if… No. He wouldn't, we're just friends.’ He mentally assured himself. ‘Yeah. Just friends.’ That was the last thing he thought before he forced himself to go to sleep alongside Ouma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like how I shittily transitioned from angst to comfort? Well, I don't! The topic of Ouma's ex will be brought up again in a later chapter, but he won't actually show up unless there's a want for a lil' confrontation scene between him and Saihara,, I dunno, I'll keep thinking!  
> Ty for all the Kudos as well! It really does keep me motivated even if I am a little late sometimes! <3  
> -Honey


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just going to accept the fact that I cannot upload consistently, and I cannot keep a schedule for the life of me lmfao  
> Anyway, thank you for all the support this has been gaining! Thank you for the kudos, the bookmarks, the comments-- which yes, I do read, and they make me absolutely go bonkers with happiness even if I don't respond to them because I'm too chickenshit and anxious to do so-- thank you! <3  
> \- Honey

It would be early morning when Saihara woke up. The light was a surprise to him, as he just assumed all the rooms in the dorms were windowless, but alas—Ouma’s room had a window in it. The sun peeked through Ouma’s barely open curtains, illuminating the parts of his room he couldn’t see previously. There was a desk near the door along with a bookshelf full of a mix of both manga and thick textbooks. His eyes wandered around the room, taking it in full, then landing on the sleeping boy next to him. The light made his pale skin glow and his plum hair shimmer beautifully, a deep contrast to how he was drooling with his face smushed into his pillow as he hugged it in his sleep. Saihara inwardly chuckled and carefully reached over Ouma to grab his phone off the bedside table.

Nine-fifteen—a tad later than when he usually woke up, but nothing too out of the ordinary for a free-day. He would scroll through things on his phone for a measly 5 minutes before Ouma started to stir and call out Saihara for being ‘loud’.

“What do you mean, ‘loud’,” Saihara whisper-shouted. “I’m not loud, you’re just a light sleeper.” Ouma sat up in a sleepy daze still holding the pillow he was sleeping with and rubbed his eyes. Saihara simply stared at Ouma, waiting for when he would speak, but subconsciously, he admired the other boy once again. His hair was disheveled and his eyes a lilac color in the sun, different to the mauve they usually were. 

“Why’re you up so early anyway?” Ouma yawned. “You do know what the weekends are for, right?” Saihara lagged a bit after Ouma had finished speaking, looking somewhere else in the room.

“Y-yeah, but I just naturally wake up early. I can leave if you want to keep sleeping.”

“No, it’s whatever. I’m already up, no thanks to you,” A playful, yet still tired, smile made its way onto Ouma’s face. Tossing his pillow somewhere off to the side and fully throwing off the rest of the comforter that was still covering him, he swung his legs off the side of his bed and stretched, now facing away from Saihara. “If you really do want to leave though, be my guest. I’d uh,” He paused. “I’d definitely understand after what happened.” He chuckled dryly. 

“I sought you out. This only happened because of me. I want to leave your room, maybe, but I still have to make it up to you, remember?” Saihara slid out of bed and stood. “So that means I won’t leave ‘til it gets late.” He checked his phone for the time once again. “Just, nothing too crazy, alright?” Unbeknownst to Saihara, Ouma became flustered. While, yes, he did say that Saihara had to ‘make it up’ to Ouma, he didn’t really expect him to take it seriously. Any normal person would have left after he’d tried to kill them, hell, even just leave after interacting with Ouma in general, but this was Saihara we’re talking about. He’s always been interested in the weird and practically unsolvable.

Actually looking at him, Ouma would definitely admit one thing—Saihara was attractive. He was tall- well, somewhat tall, not necessarily as tall as Momota or Amami, but definitely still taller than Ouma, which he’ll never admit he actually likes -and the combo of his dark navy hair and greyish-gold eyes. Ouma didn’t necessarily find himself intriguing, his matchy-matchy purples combo usually resulted in people telling him they found it weird. Ouma softly shook his head to stop thinking.

“Yeah. For sure.” Ouma stands, passing Saihara as he goes through his closet. “We should go somewhere. Cafe maybe.” 

“I’m fine with that. We’ll have to stop by my dorm before we leave though.” A noise of agreement came from Ouma, as Saihara went into the dorm’s coed bathroom to change back into yesterday’s jeans. Ouma was waiting in the small hallway, now wearing his check-pattern backpack and a pair of black gloves. The rest of his outfit was relatively the same as yesterday, the same hoodie with his pajama pants switched out for a pair of black jeans.

“No scarf?” Ouma shrugged.

“Don’t own one. Never saw the need when all I needed really were the gloves.” Ouma lifted his hands for emphasis. 

“If you say so.” 

-

“Goodness, Saihara-Chan, your room is so small!” 

“It’s the same size as yours, Ouma-Kun.”

The two were currently in Saihara’s room, Ouma sitting on the bed while the other chose clothes from his closet.

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause you have more stuff in here than I do.” That was true. There was, of course, a bed and a desk in the room, but at the end of the bed was a TV on top of a bookshelf, there was another bookshelf near the door, and there were surprisingly still some boxes he still hadn’t unpacked. Piquing Ouma’s interest, he silently snuck by Saihara and proceeded to look through one of the already opened boxes.

“Whaddya have boxes still here for?” Ouma pulled out a few picture frames, the first few of a younger Saihara, one of which had him alongside an older man and woman. Saihara peered over Ouma’s shoulder, looking at the picture he held in his hands.

“Who’re they?” Ouma questioned. Saihara hesitated. ‘My parents’, he wanted to say, but the opposite response came out. Saihara turned away, seemingly extra focused now on his closet.

“They’re no one,” His eyes flickered to Ouma’s hands for a split second as he pulled out another frame—it was a photo of their senior class from high school. “Please be careful with my stuff,” Ouma waved dismissively, unable to take his eyes off the photo, specifically looking at 2 boys near the edge of the frame. One wore a black hat with a few stripes and the other had a check-pattern bandana tied loosely around his neck. They were both smiling and doing peace-signs together, appearing ecstatic, supposedly at the thought of graduating. Ouma ran his thumb over the glass where the two were, smudging it slightly, before shoving it back into the box and closing it swiftly. Saihara’s voice came from behind him as he did.

“Are you done yet?” Ouma glanced behind him to see Saihara wearing a completely different outfit than before—a dark, dark blue windbreaker replaced the shirt he had on earlier (Ouma would’ve commented on how Saihara would get cold, but spotted the cuffs of a long-sleeve shirt poking out from under his jacket), jeans practically identical, and the same black messenger bag he carried with him to his classes. 

“S-sorry,” A small smile sat on Saihara’s lips as he beckoned Ouma to him. Ouma was caught completely off-guard as Saihara gently tugged a white scarf around his neck, a complete contrast to the black one the other was wearing.

“It’s really cold out. You’ll thank me when we get outside.”

-

And- oh boy -was it cold. As soon as they stepped outside the dormitory building, Ouma reached up and pressed his face into the scarf he was being lent. While it mainly just smelled like dust, most likely from being in the closet, he could still faintly smell the scent of coffee and some brand of cologne. It smelled good to Ouma. ‘Is this what he-?’ He mentally cut himself off, stealing a look at Saihara who was currently leading the two to a nearby cafe. Ouma flushed, though if the other asked he could simply just claim it was the cold, as the freezing air was nipping at his face.

Saihara opened the door of the cafe and Ouma quickly entered, relishing the warm air inside. 

“So,” Saihara started. “What’re we-”

“Go sit over there, I wanna pick what we get.” Ouma interrupted. The other instantly became confused.

“Wh-”

“Just go, it’ll be something good, I promise.” Saihara sighed in defeat and sat at a nearby table, taking off his bag and dropping it on the chair next to him. No sooner than he did, Ouma sat across from Saihara at the table.

“That was fast. Did you actually order or was that just a lie?” Ouma placed a hand on his chest feigning hurt and scoffing.

“Sir, I would never. You wound me.” Saihara playfully rolled his eyes as Ouma started to rummage around in his bag or something.

“You could’ve at least let me pay.” At that, Ouma waved the receipt around in Saihara’s face before stuffing it in his pocket.

“I’m a big boy, Saihara-Chan, I can pay for my own things.” He sat a book on the table and opened it to an already bookmarked page and began to read. “It’s Arsène Lupin, before you ask since I know you will.” Ouma turned the page. “I’ve read it about a million times already, but it’s always a good read, personally.” Saihara gently smiled as he turned his attention from the boy in front of him to the window. It was gloomy outside, snow covering practically every part of the walkway, and surprisingly, sooner than he would have liked, it began snowing. 

“Ouma-Kun, look,” Ouma glanced up at Saihara, only to see he was looking through the window. Upon seeing the current snowfall, he pushed himself up against the glass.

“Woah, nice! Like, yeah, the snow’s already out there, but it becomes better when it’s actually snowing!” He quickly turned away, standing up and going to the nearby counter bringing back two drinks. “M’lady,” He slid Saihara his drink as he sat back down. Saihara eyed the plastic cup in front of him. What was even in there? It could really be anything—tea, coffee, hot chocolate, hell, even just some hot water to trick him, but from the whipped cream on top, it had to be either coffee or hot chocolate. Putting the straw to his mouth, the taste that entered his mouth was sweet, but not overly. He liked it.

“Hot chocolate?” Saihara questioned Ouma. He simply let out a noise of confirmation as he continued drinking his own. 

“It is winter y’know. I made sure to make yours bland so it matches everything else you eat,” Ouma teased as Saihara snatched the other boy’s drink from his hands and took a sip. It was sweet, but as soon as the rest of the sweetness registered on his tongue, he nearly dropped the cup from how rich it was.

“H-holy shit, Ouma-Kun,” Saihara said hoarsely. “How do you drink this? It’s so sweet,” Ouma slowly went silent, the joy on his face almost leaving as he subconsciously brought inherently bad memories to the forefront of his brain. He pushed his glasses up, resting his head on the palm of his hand as he looked anywhere but Saihara.

“Well… After, uh, everything had happened and I practically escaped, I was pretty much slowly re-training myself to like things I liked again.” Ouma huffed bitterly. “Of course, Kii-boy was there to help too, but I was mainly by myself.” Ouma sat up and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I was drawn to sweet things. I liked how harshly the sweetness felt in my mouth. It erased everything else.” Ouma’s eyes met Saihara’s grey-gold ones. “The alcohol, the smoke, my own blood, him-” The words trickled out of Ouma’s mouth as if he were spitting out poison. “I wanted it gone. So, instead of turning to drugs like most, I resorted to something significantly cheaper, and something I actually liked.” He reached over the table, breaking eye contact with the other boy, and took the cup back from Saihara, swirling the remaining liquid around as he spoke. Ouma looked at Saihara again, seeing concern paint his face. “Ah, on a lighter note, since I have a fast metabolism I gained barely any weight since I ate so much, hah” The plum-haired boy tried to joke to try and lighten the oppressive mood he created. He sighed. “I am way too open around you,” Ouma muttered, standing. “Let’s go.” 

Saihara scrambled to gather his things and follow Ouma as he hastily exited the cafe. The cold air hurt his face as he left, but he continued after the shorter boy.

“Ouma-” Saihara finally caught up with Ouma, but the other wouldn’t look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen as it did. I just,” Saihara breathed out, unsure of whether it was because he was slightly out of breath or he was just struggling to think of the right words. “I got curious. You didn’t have much of a sweet-tooth in high school, so I was just interested.” Saihara was doing a balancing act—he had to find the right words to comfort Ouma in such a way that it wouldn’t trigger anything, but he was unsure if touch from Saihara himself would do anything negative. 

“Whatever I-I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, look-” Saihara gently grabbed Ouma’s wrist to stop him from walking any further. Saihara could hear quiet sobs coming from Ouma. ‘Shit,’ Saihara thought. He’d used full-sized fucking rocks to, once again, accidentally break Ouma’s heart of glass. Again and again, he kept unintentionally fucking up. Letting go of Ouma’s wrist, he slowly wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. It became quiet as he did—Ouma’s crying was muffled by the jacket Saihara wore, and the only other sound apparent was the snow crunching beneath their feet when either one of them moved even the slightest bit.

“I’m sorry. I just feel like I’m,” ‘A terrible person. A fuck-up. Horrid.’ His thoughts fought with him on words. “Making everything shit for you. I just don’t know what I should and shouldn’t do half the time, and the things I am doing just seem to hurt you in the end.” Saihara paused. “That’s honestly the last thing I want to do.”

“I-I barely know a-anymore either.” Ouma slightly stepped back from their embrace and rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “P-please don’t think it's your fault. It’s mine, I sh-shouldn’t be crying.” Ouma tried to compose himself but failed in the end. 

“This is not your fault. You’re not in the wrong for having emotions, Ouma-Kun. You have the right to feel this way, but I just feel like I’m bringing all of this on you ten-fold. I just don’t know what to do.” 

“If I fall down, be there to pick me back up. You’re n-not doing it on purpose, I know that.” Ouma raggedly sighed. “I’m just still sensitive about it.” Ouma leaned back into Saihara, loosely wrapping his arms around the taller boy’s torso. Saihara returned the hug, burying his face in Ouma’s mildly wild hair. Even if now wasn’t the time to think about it, he smelled good, like strawberry and sweets.

“Okay,” Ouma once again broke their hug and sniffled. “I am actually fine this time.” A small smile found its way onto Saihara’s face, and even though Ouma copied him, it was genuine. 

“Do you want to do anything else today? Or…?” Ouma simply shook his head, suggesting they should go back to Saihara’s dorm. Saihara personally thought it would be best for Ouma to be in his own space, but if he felt comfortable enough to want to just hang out in there, he’d accept it.

=

Saihara woke up. He didn’t necessarily remember going to sleep, but apparently he had been. He couldn’t gauge the time, as his room lacked windows, and he was just so unfamiliarly comfortable in his bed. It was strange. However, when he looked slightly down, there was Ouma. He was curled up into Saihara’s side, almost like a dog or cat, sleeping peacefully. Saihara had to use his free hand to cover his mouth, his other arm being used as both a pillow and support for Ouma. Saihara tried to steady his nerves and calm his breathing so as to not wake the other boy and bother his rest. ‘This is nice though,’ He thought. He’d definitely admit that it was indeed nice. It was very… Domestic. Saihara flushed. He internally groaned as he rubbed his face. It was wrong for him to think about such things. He was the support, the walking stick—the balance. Supposedly, Ouma still wanted him around even after causing Ouma to break down, not just once, but twice. How could he be the balance if he kept accidentally making Ouma’s side of the scale heavier? Of course, he’d gained the knowledge of Ouma’s atrocious past while Saihara was practically MIA for that time, so maybe that actually helped Ouma. Getting to just… talk about it. Saihara quietly sighed as his thoughts continued to run wild. Shutting his eyes, he struggled to go back to sleep, his brain constantly going back to Ouma.

And as Saihara began to fall asleep, the singular thought of Ouma being happy from simply being around Saihara lingered in his brain as he felt his consciousness slip from reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly just wanted this chapter to be a nice recovery from the previous one, but uh, as you can see, I just got lost in the hurt part of the hurt/comfort, and it developed into this,,  
> Thank you for being patient with me! <3  
> \- Honey


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TW FOR ; Blood, brief mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts
> 
> -
> 
> I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR SUCH A LONG TIME ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡  
> The days seem to go so unbelievably fast and I've been mainly focusing on art and cleaning as a family member came to stay with us recently,,  
> I promise I'm not abandoning this story!  
> Later this week though I'm gonna post a short ficlet between your guys' two favorite boys, so yeah, look for that if you're interested!  
> Thanks for being so patient with me! <3  
> \- Honey

_ Ouma’s eyes flickered open, panic surging through his body as he realized where he was. The sight of some oh-so-familiar partially bloodied furniture and tiled flooring made his blood run cold. He was back. He’d somehow gotten back to his ex’s place. _

_ “Shit, shit, shit, fuck-” He covered his mouth to silence his laboured breathing as he struggled to shuffle backward away from the room. The blood seemed to follow him, pooling underneath his feet and the amount being flooded around him was alarming. He only figured out where it all was coming from when he looked down to see, not one, but two large kitchen knives sticking out of his abdomen. He fell to his knees, to paralyzed from shock to do anything but stare horrified at himself. It was silent in the room. Actually, there was no room anymore. What resided in front of him was now a mirror, reflecting his hurt self right back to himself. Ouma reached out and touched the glass, leaving bloody handprints as he tried to break it. _

_ “Bitch.” _

_ “Dumbfuck.” _

_ “Whore.” _

_ “Slut.” _

_ Insult after insult was hurled at him as he struggled to shatter the mirror. He’d heard it all before from his past lover, but what really struck him, was that they were being said in  _ Saihara’s _ voice. He began to slow his offense and broke down in tears. _

_ “Shut up, SHUT UP!” He screamed. He gripped one of the knives, preparing himself for pain, but none came when he ripped it out of himself. The utensil was immediately shoved into the mirror and dragged down, shattering and splintering the glass as it cracked, pieces falling into the pool of blood below. _

_ “He would  _ never _ say that.” Ouma slowly stood on wobbly legs, slashing the top half of the mirror, blood now spilling out of the cracks. He could barely see anything reflecting back except half of his face, smeared with blood, and eyes he didn’t recognize. _

_ “It’s not like you’d say anything if he did.” Ouma gasped, looking up to see an inky, black, humanoid figure looming over him, like a wave about to crash. “You’re just an obedient dog, never speaking unless spoken to.” He began crying again, ragged sobs wracking his body. _

_ “Your life ends here.” The mass got closer to Ouma. “And you’ll do it by your own hands.” It launched itself as it finished speaking and— _

Ouma jolted awake, pulling himself upwards as he clawed at his neck, tears pouring out of his eyes. 

“O-Ouma-Kun…?” The sudden sound of Saihara’s voice made Ouma violently jump and shuffle away, pressing himself against the wall which the bed was pressed up against.

“G-Get away from me!” Ouma shouted at Saihara, still delirious from his dream. Swiftly, Saihara turned on his bedside lamp, spilling the fact to Ouma that it was Saihara, and he wasn’t still dreaming.

“Hey, hey, it was just a dream, calm down,” Saihara crossed the bed, slowly approaching the other boy. 

“I-is thi-is real?” Ouma hiccuped. Saihara could practically feel the fear and distress radiating off of Ouma, the former struggling to analyze the situation, his brain powered only by adrenaline. 

“Yes, b-but you need to breathe, Ouma-Kun,” His breathing was uneven and ragged, trying to match Saihara’s heavy and accentuated breathing and drag himself out of where he was. “Yeah, good, like that,” Saihara sat with his back pressed against the wall next to Ouma, still being cautious of his own movements. Ouma pulled his knees to his chest and leaned against Saihara, his crying slowly ceasing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ouma simply shook his head. “Do you want to go back to—ah, maybe not, huh? Why don’t we put something on the TV then?” Saihara caught Ouma’s eyes as they looked at each other, Ouma hesitantly nodding in agreement with the plan. Saihara pulled himself off of the wall, getting comfy back in his original spot in bed, the other lagging behind just a tad. 

The movie they had put on was just something mindless to distract them from the events prior, the pair struggling to stay awake, as one of them didn’t want to go back to sleep whatsoever, and the other did it to act as comfort.

“Thank you,” Ouma spoke after a silence befell the room, save for the TV now just becoming background noise. 

“Oh, yeah, no pr-”

“Just, listen.” Ouma sat up and turned toward Saihara, speaking softly. “Thank you,” He paused. “For putting up with me, both then and now. And while you weren’t the most, y’know,” He gestured with his hands. “Reliable during  _ that _ time of my life, I’m, uh, I’m happy to have you here now. I know I never act like it, but I honestly just feel like I’m a burden to everyone around me. ”  _ ‘I also really like you romantically, by the way,’  _ He thought. Of course,  _ actually _ saying that would have a high chance of sullying their relationship, and honestly, he probably couldn’t handle what could potentially happen if he lost Saihara. The pair were now equally flustered, Ouma now silent yet eagerly focused on Saihara’s response.

“Ouma-Kun,  _ please _ never feel like you’re a burden. While you can be,” Saihara paused, choosing his words carefully. “Difficult at times, you’re quite nice to be around.” Ouma, newfound confidence within his grasp, took it upon himself to bring back out some of his well-known arrogance.

“J-just admit you like me, Saihara-Chan, jeez,” Saihara chuckled and began to become comfy under his comforter. It was lighter than Ouma’s but still kept him warm.

“I definitely don’t hate you, so there would only be one logical alternative,”

“Was that a proclamation of your love just now?” Ouma exclaimed. Saihara flushed again as he rapidly waved his hands around in protest.

“A-ah, no, I- don’t take it the wrong way, er- not that it wouldn’t be—” Saihara cut himself off with a groan before his brain revealed any more information he didn’t want out.

“Chill out, I was lying anyway.” A smile forced its way onto Ouma’s face, somehow convincing Saihara that he  _ was _ indeed lying. Internally, he was fighting himself, ‘ _ Just tell him, you won’t have a better opportunity’ _ versus, ‘ _ It’s too soon, you can do it at some other point, somewhere better than his own bedroom’ _ . Ouma’s internal struggle, and inevitable silence, lead the two to get comfy in the large bed, even if they both couldn’t initially get to sleep. Ouma was too busy yelling at himself, while Saihara was internally panicking about if what he had said upset Ouma at all. Eventually, they had both gotten to sleep peacefully, the movie they had put on still quietly playing in the background as they slept.

=

It had to be around four or five in the morning when Ouma awoke for the second time that night. Saihara was still sleeping, as to be expected, but Ouma was wide awake. 

And he had the sudden feeling he should leave. Like he wasn’t wanted there even though Saihara had pretty much invited him over. He sighed, looking over to the wall where a window should have been, but wasn’t. Sitting up, he glanced over at the sleeping boy next to him. He could barely see him, but even in the dark, he was still a sight to behold. While a small part of his brain was telling him to stay and be there when Saihara woke up, a larger part was telling him to go. It wasn’t that he felt he was in any danger or discomfort, quite the opposite actually, he felt he’d overstayed his welcome. 

Carefully slipping out of Saihara’s bed, he silently gathered his things and wrote a quick note to put on the nightstand, sparing the other boy a final glance before leaving the room. To his surprise, though, he wasn’t the only one up.

“Ouma-Kun? I didn’t even know you were here.” It was Kiibou, and he seemed to be drinking something on the small loveseat in the dorm’s tiny living area. Ouma put a finger to his lips in a ‘hush’ motion.

“Quiet, Kiibou. If…” Ouma sighed glumly. “If you happen to see Saihara-Chan later, please don’t tell him you saw me leave. I’m dealing with some stuff and need to be alone.” While he definitely didn’t want to be alone, he was definitely struggling with some demons.

“I understand.” Kiibou lowered his voice, standing from his seat and approaching Ouma. “I know you probably know this better than anyone by now, but if you need me, I’m here. I might not know exactly what goes on in that head of yours, but I can tell when you’re in pain. Please take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks, mom.”

“Ouma, I swear-”

“Kidding, I’m kidding. But seriously, thanks.” Ouma sheepishly smiled as Kiibou returned it with one of his own.

“Alright go, before he notices the lack of another person in his bed.”

“How did—?”

“Lucky guess. Go.” Ouma nodded and showed himself out of the dorm, making sure to be quiet when he closed the door, making the journey back to his own room.

-

Silently opening his dorm’s door and then the one to his room, he dropped his bag to the floor with a ‘thud’, hoping the walls would muffle the sound.

“Fucking hell,” He muttered. Crossing the room to sit on his bed, he drew the curtains back on his window, letting the periwinkle moonlight flood the room. Ingesting the fact at just how quiet the room was, save for his own breathing, he almost regretted leaving Saihara. Keyword,  _ almost _ . His mind became heavy and clouded with negative thoughts, and even painfully remembered the nightmare from earlier that night.

_ “Your life ends here. _

_ And you’ll do it by your own hands.” _

A headache began to bloom somewhere in his head, and he took that as a sign to lay down. He didn’t have any pain-killers in his room, or even the dorm in general, as Amami, and even Ouma’s subconscious knew he couldn’t be trusted with them by himself.

He had tried at one point overdosing himself with whatever he could find in his ex’s medicine cabinet, but to his dismay, it didn’t work. He was hospitalized for a time he could barely remember, but in a turn of fortunate events, it got him out of his situation. He bucked up and broke down, finally getting the chance to spill everything to the authorities. He’d avoided doing it for so, so long, but why? He didn’t have an answer. 

He honestly thought he was past this, but seeing as how the past two days had played out, it seemed otherwise. Ouma groaned, rubbing his eyes and face with his hands. His bed felt bigger than usual, the lack of extra heat chilling him more than he already was.

‘ _ Maybe… Maybe it’d be better if I tried again,’  _ Ouma thought.  _ ‘It’d be hard, though. I don’t think this building’s tall enough, and,’  _ A terrible idea sparked in Ouma’s head. 

“I’m an adult. I can buy my own pills." But that idea immediately went down the drain when he realized he probably couldn’t afford it. Torn between himself, he found solace in reminiscing about his time in high school. While his home life was a shitstorm, school was somewhat pleasant. However, what he was really focusing on at that moment was Saihara. Freshman year, Ouma had no friends, no acquaintances, nothing. He really only started to become the person he is now when Saihara entered the scene. He was an anxious child, you could easily tell just by looking at him, but he took Ouma into his friend group easily somehow.

They soon became the best of friends, thick as thieves. But when high school ended? It all just went away.  _ That’s _ what struck Ouma. 

The loneliness. The blatant abandonment. While, yes, Ouma was extremely pleased to have Saihara back in his life here, and now, it made it difficult for himself to just so easily forget. He could forgive, but oh god, how could he forget? Ouma sighed, rolling over to stare blankly at the wall opposite to the window. 

He went to sleep that night freezing, alone, and trapped inside his own brain with suicidal tendencies bribing him until he knocked himself out from overthinking.

=

Saihara woke up in an immense panic.

Ouma was gone, and seemingly without a trace. That is until a short note was found on Saihara's nightstand.

_ 'didn't want to bother you again with my problems. you deal with me enough, and i'm a big boy who can take care of himself. _

_ thanks for what you've done for me though. _

_ -ouma' _

"Fuck, Ouma," Saihara muttered. Haphazardly throwing on some pants and grabbing his keys, he rushed out of the dorm. His anxiety skyrocketed, making him nauseous, his legs and mind on auto-pilot as he sped up the stairs to Ouma's dorm.

A few swift knocks with clammy hands were placed on his door with no response until a short bit later.

"Oh, hey, Shuichi. What's up?" While it wasn't who he wanted to answer the door, it was someone.

"H-hey, Rantarou." Saihara's voice was shaking as he spoke. "You haven't seen O-Ouma around recently, have you?" He bit the inside of his cheek as Amami thought.

"Yeah, actually. Came back really early this morning. He thinks I can't hear him when he comes back, but once he goes in his room he's loud as all hell,--"

"I'm r-really sorry, but can I see him?" Saihara cut Amami off in anxious desperation.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Amami fully opened the door, letting the bluenette inside.

"Ouma-Kun, open up," Amami spoke somewhat loudly, a few knocks accompanying his request. Suddenly, the door swung open revealing Ouma. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, although he looked like he'd gotten no sleep, the dark bags under his eyes further proving that, and his hair was completely messed up as if he'd been running his hands through it constantly and pulling at it.

"What do you wa—" Upon seeing Saihara standing next to Amami, he closed the door as fast as he had opened it. Amami stood there dumbfounded, almost not processing the situation.

"What the hell…? You wouldn't happen to know why he's like this, would you?" Amami glanced at Saihara who was currently silent, simply staring back.

"Yes, sadly." He sighed. Saihara was about to speak on why, but his phone buzzed a few short times.

**Ouma | did you not read the note i left???**

**Ouma | thought it was pretty obvious i can take care of myself**

Saihara read the two messages a few times trying to think of a response.

**Me | Yes, but I'm allowed to be concerned.**

**Me | When you just take off in the middle of the night without any forewarning it**

**Me | It freaked me out more than anything ever has**

A few minutes passed before Ouma's response came through.

**Ouma | why are you so concerned for me anyway**

**Ouma | if anything im a burden to you lmao**

**Ouma | dont you have better things to be focusing on??**

**Me | Actually, not really. Surprised?**

**Me | I hope you know that someone's mental and emotional health comes before anything.**

**Me | And if that means I have to spend 90% of my time with you, then so be it.**

This was true, of course. If Ouma kept denying it, Saihara would just keep gently pushing it. He would be there, no matter what.

**Ouma | hm**

**Ouma | hope you know that eeeeeverything youve seen me do so far is an act ✨✨**

**Ouma | im actually completely fine!**

Saihara let out a brief nasal exhale in disbelief.

**Me | I know for a fact that isn't true.**

**Me | I've been able to see through you since high school and you know that.**

**Me | You can tell what lies you want people to believe about you, but your eyes tell the truth.**

Saihara paused.

**Me | You can deny it all you want, but you actually want my help, don't you?**

A few minutes had passed, yet there was no response. Saihara looked to his side, seeing that Amami had returned to his room unbeknownst to the boy. The door in front of him slowly opened, and all of his attention was now focused on the small crack that was being opened at an almost painful pace. 

However, there Ouma was. He was crying, a now seemingly common occurrence when they were alone, and he began to whisper something.

"Yes, p-please, oh, God, please h-help me." He was gripping the bottom hem of his sweater until his knuckles turned white, and, being cautious, Saihara opened his arms, hoping Ouma would get the message.

And he did. Ouma launched into Saihara's arms, openly weeping and tightly wrapping his arms around the taller boy's torso. Saihara returned his hug, running a hand through Ouma's hair comfortingly.

"I really do mean it," Saihara spoke softly. "I care about you a lot, and I'd hate to see you keep getting hurt as you have been. It breaks my heart." Saihara paused when Ouma gently looked up at him, eyes wide and still full of tears. "But if I have to break my heart to try and fix yours, then I'm okay with that." 

There was a moment of silence between the two before Ouma gently tugged Saihara down to his eye-level, faces mere centimeters away from each other. It was a silent staring contest, but Saihara could see, clear as day, what Ouma wanted to happen.

And he wanted it too. Leaning forward ever so slightly, Ouma's hands running up Saihara's chest to rest gently on his neck, he made his move.

Or he tried to, at least. Amami, at the worst possible time ever, opened his door. The two boys pulled away from their intimate closeness, standing up straight, faces both flushed.

"Was I, uh, interrupting something?" Amami leaned smugly against his doorframe.

"Ah, n-no, of course not. Actually, I was just about to leave, right, Ouma-Kun?" Ouma responded with a small 'mhm' as Saihara awkwardly fumbled his way out of the dorm saying his goodbyes to the other boys in the room. Ouma fell back against his door, sliding to the floor with his head in his hands.

"Rantarou," Ouma began. "I'm so gay," he whined.

"I mean, it's pre-e-etty obvious. You don't need to look  _ that _ hard." Amami smirked.

"Shut it." Ouma groaned. "You messed it all up, too! Why are you so mean to me, Rantarou-Nii-chan!" He feigned tears before being offered a hand to help stand up.

"Yeah, yeah," Ouma took the hand he was offered and stuck his tongue out at the taller boy before retreating back into his room. His thoughts were running wild. He was so unbelievably close to being able to finally kiss the person he'd had a crush on for a painful four years and some odd number of days. Ouma groaned, falling over onto his bed replaying the moment between himself and Saihara over and over in his head. 

He'd fantasized about something similar for as long as he could remember knowing the guy, but knowing that it could possibly happen? It actually scared Ouma.

However, he comforted himself by remembering one thing—Saihara  _ leaned _ into it. Ouma rolled off his bed and did an awkward little victory dance around his room, ecstatic that he might actually have a chance at this. But Ouma had another thing on his mind as well.

How long would it take to finally grab Saihara by the mouth?

While things had been quite a bit hectic for the both of them, Ouma especially, he was unsure exactly how long it'd be until he'd get another opportunity like that.

All he knew for sure, though, is that he's more than happy to wait.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn,, it really do be like that sometimes, huh? Just,,, they just wanna kiss,, wanna smooch,,  
> Well too bad!  
> Hope this chapter was good, considering how long I accidentally took writing it, and thanks for all your support! means a lot! <3  
> \- Honey


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